


The Demon Bride

by The_Lady_Crane



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Kirby - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Super Smash Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Demons, Arranged Marriage, Crack Relationships, Crack Treated Seriously, Drama, Dubious Consent, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fucked Up, Human Sacrifice, I Don't Even Know, I'm Going to Hell, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Sex, Male Slash, Mpreg, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slash, Violence, Yaoi, i have no plan for this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 11:56:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20835065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Lady_Crane/pseuds/The_Lady_Crane
Summary: “What do you want of me?”They had come to the moment that Meta Knight was dreading. “You won’t believe me when I tell you,” he said.Marth’s heart skipped a beat. “Why?”“You’re my bride.”-----Wherein Marth is a human sacrifice to the world of the demons, Meta Knight has to deal with it, and the author is a sick f*ck.





	The Demon Bride

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting on my laptop for several months now. I don't really know where it's going, but if you know me, you know there will be smut. Not in this chapter - I can sometimes show a little restraint, after all. But sometime soon, you know Marth is gettin' screwed.

The days were getting shorter in Demic. This hardly made a difference to most, as those who dwelt there were fond of darkness. To Meta Knight, it meant that he would have to stay on his guard. The troublemakers would be out in force as the sky turned from red to pitch black.

“Hey, Meta!” The knight looked up at the call, and found Dedede walking towards him, his hulking form illuminated by a nearby bar’s outdoor lamp. He groaned. This wasn’t something he needed at the moment.

“What is it?”

“I heard you’re accepting the next arrival,” the penguin-shaped demon said. Meta Knight only gave a noncommittal grunt in response that was barely heard above the noise of some passing drunks. Dedede crossed his arms impetuously. “I need you to put in a good word for me. Every year they look me over, and I’m sick of it!”

Meta Knight thought that he would gladly trade places with Dedede if he could. It was impossible, though. As Demic’s most famous swordsman (in fact his reputation was now almost legendary, and he felt no small amount of satisfaction at this), he had been a candidate for years. Thus far, he had avoided this particular obligation, but it couldn’t be helped. He would have to go along with it this time.

To Dedede, he said, “I will mention it to the Council.” But he was only trying to make Dedede feel better. Demic’s self-proclaimed king would never even be considered.

“Good! I mean, even Bowser got it last year. How d’you like that?” Dedede shook his head. Then, muttering, “Bowser!” as if the very idea was an affront to him, he walked away.

Meta Knight turned and resumed his journey to the temple.

>>><<< 

_He sits in the shallow water, bowing his head as she scrubs his back. He does not flinch, even as the rough cloth scratches his skin. The solemnity of the occasion warrants perfect stoicism, and he’s too lost in thought to care about the pain, in any case. As for the priestess, she does not even look for signs of discomfort. He must be perfectly clean, cleaner than he’s ever been in his life. She scrubs harder, until his skin is raw and red, but takes care not to cause him to bleed. He must remain intact for now._

_Passively, he allows himself to be washed, rinsed, and dried off. His nakedness is covered in fresh white cotton garments that flow loosely around his slender body. The water left a faint scent of jasmine and honeysuckle on his skin. Now sandalwood and apple blossoms perfume his body. He holds out his arms and feels the coldness of golden bands encircling his wrists. Golden chains wind around his ankles. His waist is adorned with a belt of gold and silver, embellished with a single blood-red jewel at his hip. It gleams in the light of a hundred candles, catching his eye. He focuses on that point of light, that crimson glow, as more gold chains are draped around his shoulders. He feels their weight keenly. It rests just over the mark below his navel, the brand that he was born with to show the world what he was made for._

_Something comes to rest on his head, and he looks up. She is looking into his eyes, and has placed something around him – her own golden circlet, he realizes with a shock. Emotion shows on his face for the first time, and her own expression softens. She looks like she’s going to cry, and he feels as if he’s not far from it, himself. _

_The bell begins to toll. The moment is broken between them. Her eyes harden, chips of ice glazing over in the candlelight. He lowers his gaze again, feeling as if he himself is icing over. He must not allow himself to be overcome. _

_The doors open, and a voice beckons him. It is time._

>>><<< 

“Ah, here you are at last!” Ganondorf smirked as the temple doors opened and Meta Knight walked in. “We were starting to think you had decided not to come.”

Meta Knight spared him a hostile glance, but said nothing. He focused on Mewtwo, who was standing by the altar. “Are we beginning already?” he asked.

“Yes,” Mewtwo said. His mouth didn’t move, but his deep voice was clearly heard by the other two. Though not very tall or imposing, Mewtwo seemed to dominate the room. Even in the high-ceilinged temple, his was a presence not to be ignored. The cat-like demon glared with an intelligent gaze, but Meta Knight did not avoid his eyes. He was one of the few who never flinched.

“It’s good that you accepted the responsibility,” Mewtwo said, and Meta Knight knew he had been probing his thoughts. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation. Meta Knight didn’t want anything to do with the whole affair, but he couldn’t ignore his duty. He was here, and it was time, so there was no point in dwelling on it.

“It should be any moment now,” Ganondorf said, his golden eyes on the large stone stele at the top of the altar in front of them. Meta Knight also watched it apprehensively. The torches lining the walls gave the smooth black stone a peculiar quality, as if it were a living thing. It breathed in the dancing shadows.

Silently, they waited for the moment to arrive.

>>><<< 

_It is with an almost loving tenderness that his hands are bound. The priestess ties the rope carefully, loosely. It does not need to be too tight, only enough to keep him from jerking free. But he doesn’t intend to. He’s prepared for this. _

_He had been only five years old when they had told him that he was special. Back then, he couldn’t understand the significance of this. The years had given him time to learn, though. Now he walks along unprompted, thinking only of the stone stele in front of him. Priests and priestesses line the stuffy wooden room. They chant sacred prayers as he is led to the altar. The scent of incense is heavy, and he wants to cough, but can’t summon the will to. Even his lungs feel heavy._

_Now his arms are being lifted above his head. His wrists are tied to the lacquered rope encircling the top of the stone slab. He keeps his eyes downward, watching his shadow on the floor. The priestess who bound him comes into view once more, her white robe stained with soapy water, and then she is gone. He wants to lift his gaze once more, see her one last time, but now his vision is filled by the intricately embroidered robes of the High Priest. _

_His heart beats faster. He can’t even hear what the priest is saying. The chanting, the ringing of the bell, seems to deafen him to all but his own heartbeat. There is no desire to struggle. Even as something metallic flashes in the candlelight, he remains still. The world is slipping away from him – or is he slipping away from the world? Reality is vanishing, and he doesn’t notice when the priest pulls the sword back. _

_The chanting halts. The bell stops ringing, but the rushing of his blood in his ears grows louder. Then a flash, a gasp from somewhere in the room (did he make that sound? He doesn’t know), and the blade plunges into his abdomen. _

>>><<< 

In the dim torchlight, the black stone suddenly flashed brightly. Meta Knight watched as a spot of red appeared in the center of the slab. “A clean hit,” Ganondorf said, but the others paid him no heed. Meta Knight could feel his muscles tense up as the mark grew in size, bleeding outward and downward. Long dripping lines appeared from the mark, and stained the stele. Soon the entire surface was red, as if it were freshly painted.

A tiny light appeared where the first blood-red spot had been. Mewtwo said, “This is it.” Meta Knight raised his arm without realizing what he was doing. As if from some faraway place, he watched himself touch the light. It shone through his large, gauntleted hand, and he felt reality slide away from him.

>>><<< 

_“You have been chosen by the gods, Marth.” It’s his father’s voice. It sounds so near, but there’s nobody in the room now. “This is the highest honor. We are so proud of you.” _

_Somewhere nearby, a woman is crying. His mother? _

_“To be chosen is to be blessed,” the High Priest says. “You will be exalted with those who have come before you.” _

_“You must be brave, Marth,” his sister, the priestess, whispers to him before she begins the task of bathing him. _

_Where are these voices coming from? There’s nobody here. _

“Open your eyes, human.”

_He frowns. He doesn’t recognize that voice. It’s so deep that it makes his heart shudder. There’s something about it that makes him feel that he should be afraid, but he isn’t. He’s only curious about the person who spoke. _

“Come.” _His body has gone numb, so he can’t feel the hand on his cheek. He knows his head is being tilted up, though. Something yellow glints through the darkness closing in on him, and then he knows no more._

>>><<< 

Meta Knight stepped away from the altar. The torches burned more brightly. The stele had turned black again. In his arms, cushioned on his large hands, was a young man. Ganondorf and Mewtwo looked the unconscious youth up and down, and Ganondorf nodded appraisingly. “Not bad,” he said.

Placing his hand on the boy’s head, Mewtwo closed his eyes. “His name is Marth,” he said. “Nineteen years old. You should have no trouble with him, Meta Knight.”

Meta Knight said nothing. Lowering the youth halfway onto the floor, he reached behind him for his cape. “You’re going to warp?” Ganondorf remarked, raising an orange eyebrow.

“I won’t be seen carrying a naked human through the streets,” Meta Knight said.

“It’s no shame,” Ganondorf said. “Receiving a human sacrifice is a great honor.”

“All the same.”

And with that, Meta Knight wrapped his cape around himself and the human, and disappeared into space.

>>><<< 

Meta Knight was considered to be the most powerful swordsman in all of Demic and the lands beyond. He had gained this reputation through centuries of fighting – through discipline, through endurance, and through kicking the ass of any challenger who dared approach him. Now he was said to be invincible. This wasn’t entirely true, but Meta Knight didn’t do anything to discourage the rumors. Through his strength he had gained a favorable reputation, and was now among the legendary fighters who kept order in this disorderly land.

By virtue of his position, he had obtained the wealth and resources to have a battleship built. This was an airborne vessel that he inhabited alongside his followers, the Meta Knights. In this moving metal fortress, Meta Knight patrolled the skies of Demic. Its imposing bat-shaped wings mimicked the ones hidden beneath Meta Knight’s cape, and the bow resembled its master’s own mask. It was an impressive piece of machinery, and it was also Meta Knight’s home.

His bedroom was above the bridge, with a wide view out of the front of the ship. It was to this place that he warped from the temple, holding onto the unconscious human. His feet landed on plush purple carpet, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, he was away from the sneering face of Ganondorf and the prying mind of Mewtwo.

He looked down at the human, still slumped against him in a dead faint. There was no telling how long he would remain like this, but Meta Knight wasn’t eager for him to wake up. Then he would have to introduce himself, and explain what was going on.

Or rather, what was expected to happen.

Suddenly very aware of the boy’s nakedness, Meta Knight picked him up and carried him to the bed. Pale skin contrasted with dark blue sheets. Not a trace remained of the sword that had been used to pin the young man to the stone slab. The flesh of his abdomen was smooth and unmarked now, and Meta Knight caught himself staring. Muttering a reprimand to himself, he covered the boy with a purple blanket.

Turning away, he decided to make a quick round of the ship. If he was lucky, it would be a while before the boy – Marth – woke up. There was no real point in it, but he wanted to delay the inevitable for as long as possible.

>>><<< 

Marth awoke slowly, and with no real sense of time or space. He heard first – a deep rumbling like the rolling of the distant sea. He became aware of this noise in an instant, and his other senses followed. He could smell soap and something acrid, like the smell left in the air after the New Year fireworks. He could feel stiff fabric around him, and a padded mattress below him. Finally, he could see. But he didn’t know what he was seeing.

An expanse of gray was fractured by patches of white. There was a strange pattern to this, like the spokes of a wheel. There was also a metal structure like a pinwheel, with five rays extending outward from a central sphere. Marth couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing. Then he turned his head, and realized that he was looking at the ceiling of a bedroom. The wheel-like pattern was made by the light of a lantern shining through its casing.

The lantern was what first brought him fully into the world around him. It was altogether perplexing. How could light remain so constant? There was a neat cylindrical shade surrounding the flame, but there was no flickering whatsoever. Marth turned over to look at it better, and then groaned as he realized that he was being an idiot. He had just died, hadn’t he? And the thing that he was most interested in was a lamp.

Slowly, he felt along his abdomen, where he thought the sword had pierced him. There was no wound there. He sat up, finding himself surprisingly stable. Looking around, he realized that there was something very strange about this place. The walls were too smooth. The furniture was sparse, and far too straight-edged and polished. There was a strange feeling in the air. The fireworks smell returned to him, and he shivered. So, this was the realm of the demons.

He hadn’t known what to expect when he’d pondered the matter before. He supposed that he’d expected it to be more… fiery. Yet the air was cool, and there were no flames in sight. There were no demons, either, he realized. He was quite alone.

Getting out of bed, he reached for the blanket and draped it around himself like a toga. He examined the lantern more closely, and was shocked to discover that it had no flame, and indeed no wick or oil. There was nothing but a glass circle inside that emitted bright, unblinking light. Experimentally, he touched it. It was barely warm.

Something clicked, and Marth jumped back. He saw the door open, and then the strangest thing of all appeared.

He supposed that it was a demon. What else could it be? But it didn’t look anything like the winged red men dancing around on cloven hooves. Those fearsome entities seemed only to belong to the human imagination, and to the paintings hanging in the church. Perfectly round, as large as a boulder, with a face like steel and eyes like burning coals, this was a creature entirely new to Marth. It supported itself on large feet, and wore armor like a soldier.

“How do you feel?” it said, and Marth’s heart leapt into his throat. It had a much deeper voice than expected.

“Fine,” Marth said. He couldn’t muster any reply other than that single word.

They stared at each other. Marth stood his ground, but he wanted to shrink back from the apparition. It was strange, and it frightened him. More than its – his, he guessed from the voice – appearance, Marth feared the unknown. His sister had told him about the demons and their hunger for human sacrifice, but it didn’t seem that this demon was going to eat him. At least, not yet. Marth didn’t know what was going to happen.

Meta Knight came into the room slowly, carefully, not even allowing his armor to clank too loudly. He didn’t want to scare the young man into flight – not that he’d have anywhere to go. The boy’s expression was frozen in attentiveness, but his blue eyes betrayed the fear within him. Meta Knight could hear his breathing growing faster.

“I am Meta Knight,” he said, closing the door softly. “You are in my home now.”

There was no precedent upon which Marth could base his response. Should he be afraid? Relieved? Thankful? He simply nodded, not knowing what to say.

“You were sacrificed by your people for their protection,” Meta Knight continued. “I am the one who accepted your sacrifice. You belong to me now.”

“What do you want with me?” Marth couldn’t stop himself from asking. Excitement and dread had won out over his desire to remain coolly observant.

The question seemed to unnerve Meta Knight. He glanced away, and then crossed over to the opposite wall, bypassing Marth without looking at him again. He reached out and pulled a cable, and to Marth’s astonishment, the entire wall gave way and drew back. It had been made entirely of curtains.

Beyond was a bank of inky blackness. Meta Knight watched as the lights of the town below twinkled and blinked. He could see, faintly, the boy reflected in the window. He looked like he wanted to come over and see, but was hesitating. “Come,” he said, and Marth approached with faltering steps.

The sight was dazzling and confusing all at once. Marth thought it looked like they were staring down at the stars. “What is this?” he whispered, almost to himself.

“Demic,” Meta Knight said. “The realm of the demons. Specifically, a country within the realm of demons.”

“Then… Then that’s a town?” Marth looked up again, searching the darkness. “Is it always this dark?”

“It is nighttime, and it’s cloudy. There are no stars tonight.”

Marth watched the lights below drift by. “Are we moving?”

“Yes. This is an airship.” Marth didn’t know what on Earth that was. “We are in a vessel moving through the air. A ship that flies. You humans do not have such things, do you?”

There was too much to think about at once. Marth found himself slumping to his knees, and he leaned against the glass to keep the dizziness at bay. “What’s going to happen to me now?” he whispered.

“You aren’t going to be eaten,” Meta Knight said. “No harm will come to you as long as you are with me. I told you that you belong to me now.”

“But what does that mean?” Marth’s voice was a little stronger now. “What do you want of me?”

They had come to the moment that Meta Knight was dreading. “You won’t believe me when I tell you,” he said.

Marth’s heart skipped a beat. “Why?”

Meta Knight turned his lamplight gaze towards the young man. “You’re my bride.”

>>><<< 

_“Why am I special?” Marth asked his sister one hot summer day, as they sat under the shade of an oak tree._

_She looked up through the dark green foliage, searching for the right words. She had asked the same question of her teachers at the little chapel school where she was learning to join the priestesses in their rituals. They had explained it to her, and she tried to explain to her brother in the same terms. “You were chosen because you were born with that mark on your stomach.” _

_“But why is it there?” The seven-year-old looked down at himself, lifting his shirt to view the familiar birthmark just below his bellybutton. It was a few shades darker than the rest of him, and had begun to grow more visible lately. The swirled pattern circled in on itself, like a coiled snake. Marth had always thought it looked impressive, like the tattoos he’d seen on some of the older warriors, but he couldn’t fathom why it made him special or how it had gotten there. Again, he asked, “Why do I have it and nobody else does?”_

_“Other people do, just nobody from our village.”_

_“Why do I have it, then?”_

_Elice frowned and chewed on her bottom lip. “I don’t know” were three words that she never uttered, even when they were perfectly true. She thought about it for a long while. Finally, she said, “The High Priest says demons want obedient sacrifices who are pretty. I bet they wanted you to be a wife.”_

_“A wife?” Marth frowned._

_“I bet you’ll make a great wife,” she teased with a slight crinkle to her nose._

_“Nuh-uh!”_

_“You are more sensitive than most boys,” Elice said sagely._

_“I am not!” The notion brought a blush to Marth’s face as his boyish pride was wounded. _

_“But you are,” Elice giggled. “You cry a lot.”_

_“No, I don’t!”_

_“You’re tearing up right now!”_

_Marth snapped his mouth shut, looked away from his sister, and wouldn’t speak to her for a long time. _

>>><<< 

For years, Marth had wondered why demons wanted young men and women who were virgins, and who were attractive. “You must be joking,” he said. That couldn’t be the answer.

“Demons and humans have a long-standing arrangement,” Meta Knight said. “You provide sacrifices, we provide protection from evil spirits and other forces.”

“Yes, but what does that have to do… Why would you say…?” Marth stuttered. He suddenly felt very hot all over.

“The truth is that we need humans to survive, just as humans need us to protect them.” Meta Knight glanced at Marth out of the corner of his visor, and Marth realized that his metal face was actually a mask. “Demons of the warrior class have a duty to protect the human world, but we cannot enter it unless we carry human blood. Someone like me has no human heritage, but my line is desirable as a protector of the humans. I have been chosen to pass on my genes and contribute to the next generation of knights. You will help me do that, and our offspring will be able to cross over into the human world as I cannot.”

It was absurd. Marth found himself laughing without any humor, feeling as if he’d gone mad. “But… Then, that would make me your husband, wouldn’t it? If you need me to…”

“You’re the one who will bear the child,” Meta Knight said, his voice taking on a bit of an edge at the suggestion that he would or could ever do such a thing himself.

Marth couldn’t help it. He laughed even more loudly, and clutched a hand to his mouth to stop himself. “But you… You do realize that if we’re both male… Well, that’s impossible! Hasn’t anyone explained that to you?” It was the most basic principle of nature, but this demon didn’t seem to be aware of that. Thousands of years of sacrifices, and the demons had never figured that out.

Irritation made Meta Knight’s voice sharper. “I’m aware of the human conventions and limitations,” he said. “Such rules don’t apply here. You will bear my children. That is your fate.”

Sobered by Meta Knight’s severity, Marth stopped laughing. He could no longer find anything funny about the situation. “You can’t be serious…”

“I am.” Meta Knight turned away once more, ashamed of himself for losing his temper and speaking so bluntly. “This is not an arrangement that I would prefer, either. I desire no children, and do not feel the need to sire an heir. But that is my duty.”

“But how is it possible? I don’t even have…” Marth blushed, looking down at himself.

“Your body will change,” Meta Knight said. “The act itself will ensure conception.”

The act. Marth shivered, and glanced toward the bed. That’s why he had been brought to the demon’s bedroom. It sank in then, fully, and his courage wavered as his body trembled. He would have to sleep with this monster. From birth, he had been told that his sacrifice would ensure the village’s protection. And now, he knew just how that would happen. It was almost too horrible to comprehend.

Meta Knight sensed that the boy was teetering on the edge of emotional collapse. He excused himself quietly, and left him to his despair. Marth was glad of it. He hadn’t cried in front of anyone since he was six years old, and he wasn’t about to start now.

Swallowing his tears, he forced himself to calm down and think. There was no way out of this, and even if there was, how could he shirk his duty? He had to endure everything that came his way now. That’s how it had always been. He was honor-bound to shoulder this burden.

He huddled against the window, feeling the cold glass through the blanket that covered him. When he really thought about it, Meta Knight had said he didn’t like the situation, either, but for all he knew the demon would change entirely once they were in bed together. And after that…

His shoulders shook, and soon he was curled in a ball, succumbing to the misery that swept him under like a whirlpool.

>>><<< 

There had not yet been a formal announcement of their union. Meta Knight was holding off on that for now. Still, everyone seemed to know, anyway. As he entered the bridge, his comrades – Axe Knight, Mace Knight, Javelin Knight, and Trident Knight – all looked up in apparent expectation.

“As you were.” Meta Knight’s command did nothing to deter them.

“How did it go, sir?” Mace Knight asked as Meta Knight approached the control panel.

“How did what go?” Meta Knight busied himself with examining the readout of their coordinates. They were just above the center of the city now, heading west at a slow crawl.

Mace Knight didn’t follow up, but Axe Knight did. “You received a sacrifice, didn’t you, sir?”

Meta Knight’s eyes snapped towards Axe Knight, and the skull-faced warrior flinched. “I did not announce such a thing,” he said. The calm in his voice belied a seething anger that boiled up within him. “Gossip is not a protocol on this ship. If you must indulge yourselves, then lay down your weapons and join the housewives in the market.”

“Sir, yes, sir! Sorry, sir!” Axe Knight and Mace Knight leapt to attention, saluted, and scuttled off to begin their patrols. Javelin Knight and Trident Knight turned back to their own tasks without a word.

He couldn’t avoid it forever, and he knew it. Meta Knight left the bridge, seeking solitude in the armory. Here, among the gleaming swords and shields, among the armor so neatly displayed, he allowed himself to slump against a crate and sigh. He would have to make the announcement soon, and present Marth to his vassals and his brothers and sisters in arms.

To most demons, receiving a human sacrifice was a blessing. It was a mark that one was seen as worthy of emulation. It was an honor only bestowed upon warriors and nobility. The lower classes could only breed with each other. The strongest demons were those conceived by humans, though, and thus human brides were highly sought-after. But to Meta Knight, this distinction was only a cause for embarrassment. He had no idea how to treat his new “acquisition”. Having his fellow demons leering at him and speculating about his bedroom exploits only added to the problem.

Right now, his new bride was quivering in fear in his bedroom, and Meta Knight thought it best to leave him alone. But there would come a time when he would have to face the boy. What would he say? There was nothing he could say or do to make the situation easier on either of them.

Steeling himself, he stood up again and straightened his cape. No use in putting it off. He just hoped the boy had finished crying or screaming or whatever he’d been doing.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if this is the least bit interesting to anyone else, but this premise has been knocking around in my head for a long time. I hope I can make it entertaining to someone else out there, at least until the white-coats come for me again.


End file.
